Some people have it, or so does everyone
Before the age of 9 I don't
Sweat stripped grain at the back of my head
Is this a dream or a forsaken reality shift
What happened and didn't can never be proved
Maybe it's all a figment of my imagination
My therapist says part of PTSD is often forgetting
But isn't that such a joke
When what I remember all is pain
And not one sunny day!
I remember the kicks on a rainy day
A shoe tied up in front of me
A box to big
The dirt beneath my skin
Falling to the ground
Tears welling through my eyes
It bothers me the night I broke down
Should of been hospitalization
With the knife against my thout
"What's the point?"
9 year old me shouts
A blank point look from one who's supposed to be a mother
"Just do it. Like I'd give a fuck."
Well the agenda has been made
I could've died that day
Revenge and hate kept me a scorn
How the dread of that is reborn
The first cut in history made
Exactly upon that sallow day
To much to deal with sent away
Awaits my grandparents resort at bay
And yet throughout
Never hospitalized here
Maybe that would've made the pain go astray
But no, fucked up by the heresay
And an addiction that follows me to this day
Eleven years later and still yearning for the pain.
And yet that's not the haunting eye
Yet resides behind my eyes
It never leaves its temper tantrums alone
It broke me inside and out
I think I was five,
yet it's all a blur between lines
Watch me fall beyond the rabbit whole
Never once a virgin in my life
Yeah, well that still bites
Trauma is trauma, will I ever escape from it.
That's not it, but its the worst
A sum up of my childhood.
Lost? Yeah how lost could someone get?
YOU ARE READING
Getting Better
PoetryThrough and through I have felt down, and even though this, I never thought recovery would really be this hard... Back and forth, up and down, read on to hear my struggle through out.
